


Owl be Home for Christmas

by S_Horne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Based on a Tumblr Post, Christmas Eve, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet-Cute, Steve is dressed as an elf, single parent tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28312731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: “Really,” Tony said. He’d only been a dad, – well, only known he was a dad for the eight months it had been since Peter’s biological mom and step-dad had passed – but he was learning very quickly. Rule number one was no unnecessary tears. “Places are still open on Christmas Eve, right?”Peter shrugged again. “I don’t know.”“Right. You’re six. What you would know?”“I know you need a star,” Peter said, smile dropping back to a frown. “Bet you haven’t got one of those.”“A star?” Tony let go of Peter’s hand and placed his bag on the floor before he grabbed an unsuspecting Peter under the armpits and threw him onto his shoulders. “What do I need a star for? You’re tiny – you can fit on my tree!”He was rewarded with a high-pitched squeal, which gave way to a wonderful laugh that Tony hadn’t heard since he’d picked his son up.“No, Tony! Let me go; I’m too big for a tree. No!”//Tony and Peter go Christmas tree shopping for their first ever Christmas together, but there's an unexpected guest hiding in the tree that Peter picks out
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 32
Kudos: 234





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [ this prompt](https://sabrecmc-archive.tumblr.com/post/636406499082665984/christmas-kidfic-owl-prompt-steve-is-struggling), except it's nothing like the prompt in any way other than there being an owl in a tree. Go read the prompt, which is basically a fic in itself.
> 
> Also, this switches POV and I never write like that soooo....

In his defence, Tony had expected to be alone for Christmas. Well, alone with a bottle or two of something and the extremely-precariously-leaning tower of paperwork that Pepper had left for him.

He had put up a little bit of tinsel by the door and there was a garland over the fireplace, but, Peter was right.

There wasn’t a tree.

“Oh,” Tony said a bit stupidly. He stopped in the doorway to the living room, Peter’s tiny duffle bag in hand. It hardly weighed anything, which was good as it meant that Peter would probably be quite open to the wardrobe of new clothes that Tony had ordered for him waiting in his new room. “No. No, there isn’t. Was – is that bad?”

Peter shrugged, movement a little restricted by his puffy winter coat. “I guess not,” he said eventually. He was such a serious little thing, all proper sentences and furrowed eyebrows as he looked around the huge living room. It somehow looked even bigger when Tony thought about how bare it was. “May’s got one. And Mommy and Dad did, too.”

When he’d finished speaking, his lower lip wobbled ever so slightly. Tony _hated_ seeing Peter cry. Desperate to stop the tears before they could fall, he squeezed Peter’s hand a few times until the boy looked up at him.

“What’s Christmas without a tree, huh? We need to get one of those.”

Peter’s eyes lit up and a very tiny smile tugged at his lips. “Really?” he asked, tone a little cautious.

“Really,” Tony said. He’d only been a dad, – well, only _known_ he was a dad for the eight months it had been since Peter’s biological mom and step-dad had passed – but he was learning very quickly. Rule number one was no unnecessary tears. “Places are still open on Christmas Eve, right?”

Peter shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

“Right. You’re six. What you would know?”

“I know you need a star,” Peter said, smile dropping back to a frown. “Bet you haven’t got one of those.”

“A star?” Tony let go of Peter’s hand and placed his bag on the floor before he grabbed an unsuspecting Peter under the armpits and threw him onto his shoulders. “What do I need a star for? You’re tiny – you can fit on my tree!”

He was rewarded with a high-pitched squeal, which gave way to a wonderful laugh that Tony hadn’t heard since he’d picked his son up.

“No, Tony! Let me go; I’m too big for a tree. No!”

/

Maybe buying a tree on Christmas Eve wasn’t such a good idea. Peter seemed happy enough in his car seat as Tony drove from lot to lot, the little boy singing the parts of the Christmas songs on the radio that he knew and making his new stuffed snowman dance to the bits he didn’t.

Tony had already put a few calls in to get some more decorations and some food delivered to the house, but the tree was the one thing he wanted to get himself.

“Hey, Tony?” Peter asked halfway through _Holly, Jolly Christmas_ that he really didn’t have a hope of knowing the lyrics to.

“Yeah, kid?” Tony frowned through the window to follow signs to yet another lot. He could only hope that it was still open, or that it actually had half-decent trees left to sell. The last place had been so dodgy that Tony hadn’t even unlocked the car doors.

“We don’t hafta get a tree. It’s okay. It’s still Christmas without one.”

“Of course we have to!” Tony looked into the rearview mirror to smile reassuringly at Peter. “Well get one, kid, don’t you worry.”

Starks didn’t give up. Once they had a plan, they stuck to it. It was, after all, how Tony’s father had made his business and that had been one of the only decent life lessons Tony had ever learnt from his dad. But, even if it was in him to be a quitter, he had told his son that he was getting a tree for Christmas. There was no world in which Tony was going to let Peter down if he could do anything about it.

“Okay.”

When Peter fell quiet and went back to playing with his stuffed toy, Tony gritted his teeth in determination. It was still early in the day. There was plenty of time to get a tree.

///

Steve didn’t mind his job.

Most days.

In fact, it was actually a good gig. It paid well, the hours were favourable, and he worked with some great people. Helped along by Steve liking both Christmas and children, it was pretty much his perfect role.

Except for when it was snowing on Christmas Eve and he’d been shouted at on at least four separate occasions for things entirely out of his control in the single week leading up to it.

How was he supposed to fit a six-foot pine tree to the back of a motorcycle, or make a fir that didn’t set off someone’s allergies? All Steve could do to keep himself calm was remind himself time and time again that any of the money he could make on the side whilst the schools were on holiday was money going straight to the VA centre where his best friend had been treated after service.

That mantra started to lose its effect when someone had dropped a cup of piping-hot hot chocolate down his leg and had gotten even weaker when a literal fight had broken out over a Christmas tree that hadn’t even been one of the more popular varieties.

By the time the afternoon of Christmas Eve rolled round, all Steve could think about was the mulled wine he had waiting at his new apartment and the box of DVDs he’d found when he’d been packing up to move. 

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Steve muttered lowly. His breath left his mouth in a cloud that hung in the air before him and a sharp wind whipped around the lot with enough force to make the bell on his hat jingle.

“Yeah, you look freezing,” Sam said, an ever-present grin on his face despite being bundled up like a snowman with a shining nose poking out above his scarf. “Go inside and warm up for a bit. I can manage out here – this is the quietest afternoon we’ve had all season.”

Stamping his feet in a poor attempt to get some blood to his toes, Steve scowled. “Why are you so cheerful? My balls are about to drop off and then where will we be?”

Sam laughed loudly, the sound carrying over Bing Crosby’s crooning. “Go in, you daft prick. I’ll shout you out if someone turns up.”

“You better not.”

Shaking his head, Sam laughed again. “You’re such a Grinch.”

The bell on his hat jingled again as Steve’s head shot up. He felt genuine offence at that and told Sam as much. In his defence, it had been a shocker of a day. “It’s _freezing_ out here. I think I’m gonna take off, actually. You can cover us, can’t you? It’s Christmas Eve, for Christ’s sake. Who hasn’t got a tree by now?”

“Off you go,” Sam said with an easy shrug and a soft smile. “We’ll be lucky to see a single customer now, so go home and get warm. I–”

He broke off and Steve’s heart sunk as he realised why. The tyres crunching over the gravel of the parking lot just behind him explained it all and Steve could have cried.

“Oh, for the love of…” Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly onto his ice-cold hands cupped in front of his face, Steve turned pleading eyes in Sam’s direction. “Don’t tell me that’s a customer.”

Sam pressed his lips together, eyes shining with amusement. “Sorry, Steve. Looks like Santa needs a helper for just thirty minutes more.”

///

“Wow.”

Tony couldn’t stop his proud smile. Reaching out a hand, Tony looked over the Christmas tree lot. There was at least a fair few trees still planted and ready to be sold. “Did I do good?”

“Yeah, Tony, you did _real_ good. There’s so many!” Without much concentration, Peter lifted his hand to slot it into Tony’s, his gaze much more focused on the massive lot filled with trees literally as far as the eye could see. “Can we have one?”

“Of course we can, silly. That’s why we’re here. We need to get the biggest and the best, yeah?”

Peter giggled. “Yeah.”

“Let’s get going then. Oh, look! I think I can see an elf. Reckon that’s who we have to talk to?”

Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. When Tony had gotten the call from May to pick Peter up for Christmas he’d wondered – and worried – privately whether Peter was too old for the magic of Christmas. Luckily, he seemed to still enjoy every aspect of it and believe just as fiercely as any other very young child Tony had met.

“A Santa elf?” he whispered, awe coating his words.

Biting down on his smile, Tony swung his and Peter’s hands. “I think so, kid. Must mean they’re Santa’s very own trees. How cool is that?”

“Let’s go!”

Tony had had a Christmas tree before. When he was ten. And it had been bought by a decorator who’d been hired for a _Stark Industries_ Christmas Party and thrown away an hour after the last guest had left. Walking through the tree lot, Tony found himself quickly overwhelmed.

Who knew there were so many different types of Christmas trees?

Just walking, Tony could see signs for all sorts of different varieties. There were no-needle-drop ones, a Fir Christmas tree – which Tony had rather thought was every type of Christmas tree – and around seven different kinds of Spruce. Which was he meant to get? What even was the difference? In his opinion, a tree was a tree was a tree.

“Look at this one!” Peter stopped and tugged at Tony’s hand. The tree he’d halted by was nearly ten times his size and a bright green.

“Absolutely not,” was out of Tony’s mouth before he could stop himself. He could just picture the stupid thing leaving needles everywhere and who knew what was living in it. Trees had bugs, didn’t they? Aphids or something; Tony could remember his mother screaming about them before Christmas had been cancelled in their house.

Luckily, Peter just giggled again and started walking forward with a decisive little nod. “That one was too big. Was kinda scary. And pricked my finger.”

“It was,” Tony agreed quickly. He kissed the tip of his index finger and placed it on the top of the mitten-covered hand Peter held up for him to inspect. “Let’s grab us a little one, yeah? A nice one – one that doesn’t poke our fingers and is just big enough for my star to fit on the top.”

“This one!”

Tony looked up from the tree label he’d been looking at to locate Peter’s voice. “Which one?”

“Here!” Peter called out from the next row over. “This one.”

When Tony walked over to his son, he almost missed the tree completely. “Where?”

“Here.” Peter was practically vibrating with his excitement.

Looking to Peter, Tony’s gaze settled on the tree that he was pointing at. It was… a tree. That was the only way that Tony could describe it. It was nothing more than three times the height of Peter and probably only about his width. Though it had a lot of branches, it wasn’t very lush as most of them were quite straggly. Actually, that maybe wasn’t such a bad thing as Tony didn’t actually know how many baubles he’d ordered in his blind panic to get something, _anything,_ delivered to the house.

“This one?” Tony frowned as a breeze shook the already-patchy tree and a barrage of pine needles fell to the floor. “Are you sure? You don’t want a nice no-needle one?”

“This one,” Peter repeated, bottom lip pushed out ever so slightly as his shoulders fell. “Please, Tony, I love this one. It’s so pretty.”

Tony wholeheartedly disagreed. He was by no means a tree connoisseur, but he knew what pretty meant and knew for damn sure it wasn’t the planted thing in front of them. Opening his mouth to say so, Tony looked down into Peter’s wide, pleading eyes and sighed. God, if Peter was cute as a child, then he really would have been unbearably gorgeous as a baby. Tony almost ached with the need to know what he would have been like. That was, of course, impossible, so Tony had to settle for Peter’s hand in his and fulfilling his every wish. He would do just about aything to make up for not being there – however unknowingly it had been.

“Alright then, babe. This one it is. You stay here and watch it and I’ll go get someone to help.”

“An elf!”

“A – yes,” Tony said with another sigh and a wondering thought of how on earth his life had changed so much so quickly. “I’ll go get an elf.”

///

“So, is the costume a thing for you?”

Turning at the voice, Steve recognised the man as someone he’d greeted when they arrived. It took Steve a minute to remember what he was wearing and, when he did, he blushed to his roots. How a bright green elf suit with literal bells was so hard to forget, but Steve found he managed to do it several times a day.

Gone was any chance of getting the man’s – Tim’s, Tony’s? – number. Well, the sheer humiliation and the fact that the man had a child were both factors.

A child that appeared to be missing.

“Is it an all year round thing?” Tony continued. Steve was pretty sure it had started with a T and he looked more like a Tony than a Tyler. “Something of a fetish? Cause I’m not judging in the slightest if it is; I just want to know what I’m working with here.”

“No,” Steve eventually managed to stutter out, “it’s my uniform.” A stupid one, at that, and not something that kept Steve particularly warm when the snow began to fall.

Tony’s grin turned wolfish. “Oh, I do like a man in uniform. Not that I’ve ever seen a man in _this_ uniform before, mind, but it could grow on me.”

Steve hated that he was always so quick to blush and that it then took so long to fade again. “It’s not meant for you.”

“Oh.” Tony’s gaze raked over Steve from the hat on his head to the bells on his toes. “That’s a real shame.”

Steve could have dropped to the floor, melted right into the light dusting of snow covering the ground. “Did you need something?”

“Think my kid’s found a tree,” Tony said, straightening up a little and face brightening into something more friendly than flirty. “Need you to chop it down if you don’t mind, Buddy.”

“Ha. Ha.” Though he’d heard the joke a hundred times in that week alone, Steve found that he didn’t mind it so much with it was paired with Tony’s slow smile. “My colleague Sam does the chopping, actually. If you head back over to the tree, I’ll grab him and bring him over.”

“Appreciate it, Legolas.”

“Not that kind of elf,” Steve shouted over his shoulder as he headed off, ducking his head again at the wink Tony shot him.

///

“He’s… quiet.”

Tony tilted his head as he and Steve watched Peter inching nearer and nearer to the man preparing to cut the tree down. If he knew Peter, Tony would say that he was gearing up to ask a thousand questions. And, he realised with a frown, if that were true then he needed to warn the man with the axe.

“Hey, Sam,” Steve suddenly called before Tony could even open his mouth, “watch the kid, yeah?”

The man, Sam, turned and his whole face lit up when he noticed Peter, who had slipped right into his space with interest very clear on his face.

Relaxing, Tony shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” he belatedly said to Steve’s statement. “He just lost his parents. Well, his biological mom and step-dad, but they were his parents. I’m his biological dad, but I only found out about him after the accident. I’m a pretty poor replacement.”

Tony wasn’t even after a compliment like he would have been in his youth. He genuinely meant it and had told himself the same thing over and over since the first phone-call from an obviously-distraught May. How would he ever live up to the wonderful people he knew Mary and her husband had been? He didn’t think anyone could, really.

“Oh, gosh. I – Tony, I… thank you. For telling me. I know that wasn’t easy.”

The weird thing was that it sort of had been. Tony never told anyone about Peter’s life. It wasn’t anyone else’s business and it wasn’t Tony’s place to spill Peter’s secrets to strangers. There just seemed to be something about Steve that made Tony want to talk.

Maybe it was the way he seemed to soften so much around Peter, greeting him with warm eyes and a fond smile. Anyone who looked like that at the light of Tony’s life was alright by him. 

“This is his first Christmas with me. He lives with his mom’s sister, but she got struck down with the flu this winter. I picked Pete up just this morning and I have him for the next couple of weeks. It’s the longest he’s been with me since it happened, actually. We normally only ever have weekends. I said she could come too, of course, but she didn’t want to risk us all getting sick.” Tony dug his nails into his palms as best he could through his thick leather gloves and swallowed thickly, keeping his eyes firmly ahead and not giving into the urge to meet Steve’s gaze that he could feel burning on the side of his face. “It’s my first Christmas with a child. Or anyone, actually. My family’s not exactly big on the holiday.”

“Oh,” Steve said quietly. “Hence getting a tree on Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah. Not completely sure I know what I’m doing.”

“Well, from where I’m standing, you look like you’re handling it well. If that means anything.”

It did, actually, even coming from a man with bells on his shoes. “Thanks,” Tony murmured. He figured he could blame his red cheeks on the cold, if anyone noticed. “I really–”

“Tony! Tony, come here, please!”

The startled shout had Tony practically flying across the lot. “Peter! Are you – did he get you with the axe? I will _sue._ Pete, look at me, are–”

“No, Tony,” Peter said with a tiny giggle before he fixed a serious expression on his face and wriggled out of Tony’s arms. “Listen.”

It was hard to hear much with the wind whipping around his ears and the Christmas music still playing through the speakers and projecting across the lot, but Tony fell quiet and waited. Just as he was about to speak again, he heard something.

“That!” Peter cried, reaching out to grab at Tony’s coat. “Did you hear it? Mr. Sam says it’s coming from the tree.”

Tony frowned. “This tree?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded as he propped his axe up against a nearby tree and shot Tony a laden look.

Tony grimaced a little sheepishly. Though he was sure Sam was a very careful and well-trained axe-man, in his defence, Tony was a very overprotective father. He was working on it. It wasn’t going well.

“Right,” Tony said slowly, looking back to Peter. “Do all Christmas trees whistle, or should we pick another one?”

Peter gasped loudly. “We can’t pick another one! Mr. Sam says that it must be a bird. We have to help it.”

“Pete, babes, it’s freezing and it’s getting late. We can’t really stay and help out – we were only coming here for a tree. And we still have to decorate it!”

The forced excitement he injected obviously didn’t catch on as Peter dropped his gaze to kick at the light dusting of snow on the floor.

“Oh for the–” One day, Tony would learn how not to bow to each and every one of Peter’s whims. “Okay, okay.” Tony covered Peter’s mitten-covered hands with his own as the boy pressed close to him, rubbing them to warm them up. Looking to Sam and Steve, who had appeared with a horribly confused expression, he shrugged in resignation. “What do we do?”

/

“It’s a Saw-Whet.”

Tony blinked. “A what?”

“It’s a type of owl,” Steve said with a smile. “A once-rare one, apparently. The crew said it’s sitting pretty near the top, but right back against trunk, so they can’t just reach in and get it out. They can’t risk it flying off, or something.”

“Huh. That’s pretty cool, actually. Isn’t it cool, Pete?”

Peter frowned, his hand tightening on Tony’s. “What’s he doing in the tree?”

“It was its home, I think,” Tony said with a panicked look to Steve. He’d have thought Peter would have been all over it, bursting with questions and interest. “Owls like forests and woodlands, sometimes, so I guess he thought it would be nice and cosy away from the snow.”

“Is he on his own?”

“Oh, I – um, yes,” Steve stuttered, his eyes flicking between Peter and Tony. He matched Tony’s frown. “I think they could only see him.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbled dangerously. “So he hasn’t got a mommy or a daddy? Where are they?” He sniffed, whole body bouncing with the movement. “Did they leave him?”

“Oh, Christ,” Tony muttered right before Peter let out a loud sob and turned to bury his face in Tony’s felt coat. He should have known when Peter started saying _he_ that it was going somewhere bad, but hindsight is everything. “Hey, kid, come here–”

Even as Tony did his best to peel Peter away from his body so that he could bend down and pick him up, Peter shook his head and wrapped his arms around Tony’s thighs even tighter.

“They left him, didn’t they? He got no one now cause they’ve _gone_.”

“Peter? Hey, it’s okay. We called the right people,” Steve said softly. “They’re going to take him–”

“They’re going to take him away!” Peter shook his head and pressed even closer to Tony. “He’s gonna have to go away and be all on his own.”

“No,” Steve said quickly and Tony was so thankful for the help because he was half a step away from crying himself. Reaching out, Steve rested a large – _oh,_ so large – hand on Peter’s back. “No, they’re not going to take him away. They just need to take him out of the tree, yeah? It’s not safe for him to be here alone and he can’t stay here in case someone takes the tree home – like you!”

With a loud sniff, Peter turned his face ever so slightly. Tony felt himself relax a tiny, tiny bit and Steve must have taken it as permission to continue.

“They’re just going to take him somewhere where there are other birds like him. They might reunite him with his family, or maybe he’ll meet some really nice friends. But he has to go with them, because that’s the best place for him to be.”

“Like me and May and Tony?” Peter mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. Tony grabbed his hand before he could get a stray piece of wool in his eye from his mittens and wiped away his tears with his own leather gloves.

“Just like that,” Steve said with a warm smile. His hand started to move in big, sweeping circles as Peter’s cries turned to soft hiccups. “He can’t stay here on his own, so the nice people at the rescue sanctuary are going to help him find some friends. If his mommy and daddy are gone,” Peter sniffed again and Tony squeezed him tighter on pure instinct, “then they’ll find him a Tony.”

“And an Aunt May,” Tony finally cut in. He would be forever thankful for the woman who took Peter in before he was found, no matter how much he wished Peter could have gone straight to him. Any owl that had an Aunt May would be set for life, he knew that much. “But if he doesn’t go with them, then they won’t be able to find him a family, will they?”

Peter sniffed again and a fresh wave of tears fell from his eyes. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh, darling,” Tony murmured. Pushing Peter back half a step, Tony dropped into a squat next to Steve and cupped his son’s face. “He’s going to be just fine. The rescue team do this to all little birds who need them. They went to bird school for it, you know.”

Finally, a tiny giggle escaped Peter and Tony blew out a long breath of relief. “That’s not real.”

“Sure it is,” Tony gasped, throwing a hand over his heart. “Dobby, back me up. Santa’s elves can’t lie.”

“No, I don’t think that’s real,” Steve said with a wink in Peter’s direction.

“Oh, you two non-believers. Come on – let’s go and ask them.” Standing up suddenly, Tony took Peter with him and swung him up onto his hip. The boy’s laughter rang through the air as Tony marched them away, tears mostly forgotten as they were wiped away on Tony’s scarf and lost to peals of laughter. “Come on, Elf! I want you to hear about bird school, too.”

///

“You cold, babe? Let’s go home.”

“No!” Peter tugged on Tony’s hand and pouted up at him. “Need to see the owl go. And our tree! Can’t leave without a tree. Please, Tony.”

Tony sighed and flicked Peter on his cold nose. “Alright, alright. But give me a cuddle, hey? Give me some warmth.”

“I can get some hot chocolate.” Steve didn’t think the burner at the customers’ stall was still on, but he figured he could use the staff stash if needed. Hot chocolate was a winter necessity, after all, and it was bitterly cold. Far too cold for Peter to be standing around, really.

Peter’s face lit up and he pulled away from Tony’s legs just enough to beam up at Steve hopefully. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He might have to replenish the supply after Christmas, but he didn’t really care with Peter looking at him like he’d hung the moon. “I reckon we’ll be here a while and it’s the least I can do for you being such a kind little boy.”

The smile he got in return was wide and somehow even brighter and, when he looked over to Tony, it was matched there. Holy shit. Steve had known that Tony was an attractive man – he had _eyes_ – but, wow.

“I love hot chocolate,” Peter said.

“I – yeah?” Tony swung his and Peter’s hands between their bodies. “That’s cool. Hot chocolate is awesome.”

Peter grinned up at Tony. “With cream and marshmallows.”

“Of course,” Tony said back, matching Peter’s somehow even bigger grin.

“I don’t know that we have any marshmallows left,” Steve said apologetically but, even as Tony’s face dropped a little, Peter’s expression didn’t change.

“That’s okay,” he said, bubbly and overexcited all the same. “I like hot chocolate however.”

“That’s good, because _that_ I can do.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Tony said softly, “that’s kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do after you rang the animal rescue and got them out here so fast. I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do if it had been me.”

“That was all the kid,” Tony said, running his hand through Peter’s hair before the boy started to edge away towards the commotion around the tree. He’d obviously lost his shyness and had gotten over his sadness, at least for a moment, Steve was pleased to note. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, babe. Go and poke your little Rudolph nose in – but stay away from axes! Peter; stay away from axes!”

“Right.” Clapping his hands, Steve tore his gaze away from Tony to look to where Peter had found Sam near the tree inhabited by a stray owl. He watched as Sam cuddled him into his side, obviously realising the same thing as Steve. “Come on; I could do with a hand. You can still see the lot from the staff kitchen, so don’t worry.”

Tony’s attention was obviously still on Peter as well, but he held up a finger to Steve. “I should probably warn you that I’ve never made hot chocolate before. Don’t think I’ve ever drank it before, actually.”

“Well, you can start now. It’s not exactly gourmet cooking.”

“How disappointing,” Tony snarked. “I was kind of looking forward to whipping up something five-star. Would really impress my six-year-old who lives on a diet of mac-n-cheese and quesadillas.”

Steve laughed and stepped away, blowing on his hands. He needed to either take shelter for a moment or hold something warm else he risked his fingers falling off. “Come on, Ramsay. Hot chocolate waits for no man. Let me show you my secrets.”

“I didn’t know he liked hot chocolate.”

Steve looked up as he stirred the powder in a few mugs. “Peter?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, hopping up onto the counter next to where Steve was working. “There’s so much about him that I don’t know. We haven’t had much of a chance to get to know each other, really.”

Steve bit his lip to keep himself from blurting out something stupid. “Have you not – um, don’t…”

Luckily Tony seemed to get what Steve was trying to say. “No,” he said with a weak smile. “He lives with May. Not really sure how viable that is forever, but I was only contacted after the accident. Anyway, I wasn’t really ready to be a dad immediately and things were, I guess you’d say stilted. For the start, anyway. It was difficult then and there’s a lot of years to fit into a few months.”

“You look ready to me,” Steve said as lightly as he could, focussing on stirring away the last lump of powder in one of the mugs.

“I am,” Tony said. His voice was quiet but very sure, legs swinging and kicking into the already-worn cupboards under the counter. “I think he’s ready for me, too.”

“Good.”

They fell quiet, both relaxing in the peaceful moment. It felt easy between them, though there was a slight edge to the air. Steve wanted to press, but he fought himself and held it back.

“Come on, then,” Tony said, peering over to see what Steve had done. “Let’s taste the wonder.”

Steve smiled, throwing the spoon into the small sink. “So much pressure on this.”

“And it had better live up to expectations,” Tony said, hopping down from the counter and taking one of the mugs that Steve held out. Bending cautiously, he cocked his head. “It smells good.”

“Thank you. I really thought I had some marshmallows somewhere. Let me just–”

“It’s okay,” Tony said quickly, but Steve shook his head.

“No, no,” he said, rummaging in the cupboard below the sink. “I know there’s a pack. Sam’s niece comes to annoy him all the time so I got her some to go in a marshmallow gun. Was quite a laugh, actually. She’s a good shot.”

He heard Tony chuckle. “Don’t let Peter hear that. Although I doubt he’d go for that, actually. He’s far too sweet.”

“Aw, he’ll loosen up. It’s lots of changes for him to deal – ha!” Straightening up, Steve brandished a bag of marshmallows. “ _Knew_ I had some. Want any?”

“Oh, God, no.” Tony screwed his face up and shook his head. “I don’t do sugar. This is enough. More than, even. This might actually kill me. Want to place bets?”

Steve laughed and tucked the bag under his arm to pick up the tray of mugs he’d left on the side. “I hope not. That would be bad for business.”

Tony snorted – and Steve was thankful that he had only done that and not mocked his awful, overdone joke.

“Let’s go find my chid before he climbs into the tree with the damn owl, Elf-is.”

“Oh.” Steve stopped in the doorway and tilted his head with a grimace. “That was weak. That was really, really weak.”

///

“Mm!” With chocolate staining his lips, Peter grinned widely. “This is so good! Thanks, Steve.”

“My pleasure,” Steve said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag of marshmallows. “Tony found these. He went searching high and low in the kitchen for them because he said it wasn’t a real hot chocolate without them. Isn’t he awesome?”

“Oh, no – I…” Tony was cut off by something very close to a squeal and Peter was suddenly at his leg, pressed close.

“Thank you! Can I have one, Tony, please?”

“I – yes.” Tony really needed to learn how to be strong, but it was Christmas, he reasoned with himself. “Course you can, babe. Lift your mug, then, and ask Steve nicely.”

When Peter scurried over to Steve and held up his mug with a hopeful smile, Tony met Steve’s gaze over his head. Who on earth was the man in front of him, who spoke so kindly to kids and apparently volunteered to dress up in a bright green elf costume to chop down Christmas trees in the snow? He was someone that Tony wanted to get to know, someone that he wanted to talk to for hours at a time and learn every secret that Steve had to share.

_‘Thank you’,_ he mouthed, hoping that that went someway to summing up everything Steve had done for him in such a short period.

The grin he got in return was wonderfully happy and free in a way Tony hadn’t seen anyone look for a long time. Ducking his head, he took another sip of his hot chocolate. He usually hated sweet drinks, but Steve could make a mean mug of coco, clearly.

Was there anything that he couldn’t do?

/

By the time their mugs were empty, Peter was yawning in Tony’s arms with a cold nose pressed against Tony’s neck. The owl was still in the tree as the rescue team assessed the best way to get it out, their own mugs of hot chocolate warming their cheeks and hands.

Damn Steve for being thoughtful enough to make them all something, Tony thought. It was bad enough that he was _feeling things_ for the other man that he hadn’t felt in a very long time without him having to actually go and prove he was pretty close to perfect.

“You ready to go yet? We still have to decorate the tree. The rest of the stuff should have been delivered by now and we can put a film on.”

Peter whined. “Wanna see the owl, Tony, please. Don’t wanna go home yet.”

“Who raised you to be so polite, hey?” Tony huffed jokingly, bouncing Peter on his hip. He wasn’t used to the weight of a child in his arms, but it was something he knew he could get accustomed to very quickly. That and hearing Peter say _home_ when talking about Tony’s place. “Alright, alright. But it’s a bath as soon as we get home, okay? No arguments. Jammies on before tree decorating.”

“I promise!” Peter threw his arms around Tony’s neck and squeezed him tight. “Thank you.”

Tony’s eyes closed as he squeezed Peter back. He could be a parent. Could be a parent with bells on. “You’re welcome, babe. Right, where’s this owl?”

Stepping forward, Steve cleared his throat. “They’re getting there, I think. They wanted to avoid chopping down the tree in case it scared them, but we can go and see how close they are.”

“Please!” Peter suddenly shot up and held his arms out for Steve. “Can we go? Let’s go _now_.” 

Looking to Tony a little desperately, panic was written all over Steve’s face. All Tony did was give him a smile as he passed Peter over.

“He gets a little clingy when he’s tired. I can take him back at the tree.”

“No,” Steve said when Peter was secure in his arms. “No, it’s fine. We’re good, aren’t we, Pete?”

Peter grinned, nose a bright red. “Yup.”

“Good,” Tony said, resting a hand on Peter’s back for a moment and then straightening his hat. God, he was clucky, he realised with a laugh. “Come on, then.”

///

“Alright, Sam?” Peter’s legs kicked against Steve’s thighs as he drew up next to his friend and a small group of sanctuary workers. “What’s the situation?”

Looking up from where he was squatted at the base of the tree, Sam’s face split into a grin at the sight of Peter. “Hey, guys. We’re just about to get the little guy out, actually. You sticking around to watch?”

Before Steve could say anything, Peter nodded. “Yes,” he said solemnly. “The owl hasn’t got a mommy or a daddy, like me. So they need to take him away to find a Tony and a May.”

“Oh,” Sam murmured. He looked a little lost and Steve couldn’t really blame him. He was still reeling from the first time they’d had that conversation. “That’s right. They’ll look after him properly.”

Peter sniffed loudly, but no tears fell for which Steve was grateful. For all he was good with kids, he hated seeing them cry and Tony had hung back to talk to another member of the bird rescue team.

“Alright.” The woman next to Sam suddenly clapped her hands and stood up from her squat, stretching her back. “Let’s get this show on the road and get this darling out.”

“Awesome,” Steve said. He smiled at Peter, loving the warm weight against his cold chest. “Best seat in the house, there. Happy to stay?”

Peter smiled back at him and bent to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Come on, Tony,” he said and Steve turned to see Tony at his side. “They’re ready to get him out.”

“Are they? That’s exciting.” Tony reached out and tapped Peter on the chin. Peter giggled and Steve couldn’t help but laugh himself.

“About damn time if you ask me,” Tony murmured, low enough that Peter wouldn’t hear. “I figured I’d get milk and cookies out of this deal and the window’s closing on that.”

Steve snorted and elbowed Tony in the side. “You do realise you don’t get that until bedtime, anyway, right?”

“Oh. Damn it. Really?”

“Pretty sure.”

Tony tutted. “That’s a bad deal.”

“One of the worst, I’d say.” The smile that he got for that warmed the toes that Steve had thought had fallen off with frostbite long ago. “Must be a benefit or two, though.”

No one could have missed the way that Tony’s gaze flickered over to Peter and his eyes softened. “Yeah,” he murmured. “There are, I reckon. Even when you end up in a Christmas tree farm on a freezing cold Christmas Eve with a life-size elf and an owl in need of rescue.”

“Would make a good movie,” Steve said, hefting Peter up a little more as he leaned to see what the woman by the tree was doing. “And I don’t know. I’m quite glad it brought you here.”

The silence that followed that was quite worrying. Just as Steve was about to backtrack and bumble his way out of the situation, Tony cleared his throat. Though his eyes were still on his son, his words were very obviously meant for Steve.

“There are worse places I could be.”

It wasn’t a romantic declaration by any stretch, but it was something. With Tony’s soft smile and Peter’s laugh echoing in his ear, it was enough for Steve.

///

“Can I come next Christmas?”

Tony nearly tripped as he walked into the room with two mugs of coffee and one of hot chocolate. It had been a balancing act to pick up three mugs at once without burning his hands in the first place and he really didn’t need his heart leaping into his throat to throw his balance off. “What?”

“I like it here. And May don’t really like Christmas, so I thought...”

“Doesn’t,” Tony corrected absentmindedly, more focused on how Peter’s blue eyes looked so much brighter with his new pyjamas on. The tiny dogs in winter hats and scarves had practically screamed out to Tony as soon as he’d seen them and he was glad he’d tucked them away in Peter’s room for an overnight stay as they were perfect for a Christmas evening.

“Doesn’t,” Peter repeated, sitting up on his knees as he hung yet another bauble on a branch that already had more decorations than the rest of the tree in its entirety. How it hadn’t snapped under the weight was a Christmas miracle on its own. “She could come, too, please?”

“Of course she could. The more the merrier,” Tony said automatically before he cleared his throat and knelt to the floor. “You really want to come again? Here?”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded quickly and repeatedly until Steve reached out and placed his hand on his head to stop his nodding-dog impersonation. “‘S so cool here! And we have a big tree now! Could get an ever bigger one next year and Steve could help us decorate it again.”

Oh. That was… something. It was an idea, alright. One glance at Steve told Tony that he was feeling much the same way.

“I – Pete, that’s…”

“We’ll see,” Steve said, a warm smile blossoming when Peter turned to look at him hopefully. “You could start a new tradition together, yeah? Tree shopping every Christmas Eve. Or, well, maybe not Christmas Eve. Then you’ll be left with a rubbish one each year. Maybe go a little earlier.”

Peter gasped. “Can we?” He turned to Tony with wide eyes. Oh, God. Tony was a goner for whatever words were about to leave Peter’s mouth and he knew it before they were spoken. “Oh, please, Tony! Would be so much fun.”

“Yeah, Pete. Course we can, kid. What’s Christmas without a tree, hey?” An expensive tree, at that. Steve’s eyes had nearly fallen out of his head when Tony had handed over a wad of cash and tried to give him over half back, but Tony had held his ground. After all, he’d never bought a tree before – how was he meant to know the going rate? And he’d had a couple of mugs of hot chocolate to pay for, not to mention his child’s happiness. That alone was pretty expensive.

Priceless, actually.

Peter grinned up at him, seemingly perfectly content. Honestly, it was quite confusing for Peter to be so happy, Tony thought as he handed Steve his coffee and blew on Peter’s hot chocolate for a moment or two.

After all, it was hardly even a Christmas, really. The house was only decorated in the living room with a patchy tree that only had baubles in the places that Peter could reach. Tony had had food delivered, but he’d forgotten to actually add a turkey to his basket and the Christmas jumper he’d found shoved away in the back of his wardrobe was about a size too small.

When Steve had let it slip that it would only be him at home for most of Christmas Day alone because his Ma had offered to cover a shift at the hospital and his best friend was on a therapy-ordered retreat, Peter hadn’t given up his pleading until Steve had agreed to pop into theirs for at least a few hours.

Whilst he’d been thrilled to spend more time with Steve, Tony had hardly been prepared for one guest for Christmas, never mind two.

But, the sound system had quickly been hooked up to play a playlist of Christmas classics that Tony found he knew most of the words to and the heating was blasting enough to keep them all warm. The most wonderful thing about it all was that Peter’s smile hadn’t dropped for a single minute as he bounced around like a damn bunny to throw tinsel on every flat surface and thrust hand drawn pictures of owls under Tony and Steve’s noses.

It was a chaotic, unplanned mess, but it was a better Christmas than Tony had had for years. Though it probably wouldn’t have done for anyone else, it was Christmas enough for Tony.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets no better...

“Da?”

Tony rolled his eyes as he dropped mini marshmallows into one of the four mugs on the counter before him. “In the kitchen, kid,” he called back, even though he knew Peter wouldn’t have heard him. It was as if Peter switched his ears off right after calling for attention, choosing to just shout until whoever he wanted made their way to him. Sure enough, there was another shout of his name but no child appeared in the kitchen.

Turning back to his drinks, Tony laughed when he heard a cackling scream from the direction of the living room that could only have come from Peter.

“Christ, has he always been this loud?”

Tony snorted at Steve’s voice from behind him. “Since he’s been mine, I’m pretty sure.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

“Ha. Ha. Do you know what he wants?”

“Who ever knows what Pete wants?”

Tony chuckled, stirring a bit more milk into one of the mugs that didn’t look quite the right shade of brown. “Yeah, that’s true. What’s he doing?”

“Annoying May, I think,” Steve said, though the fondness in his voice gave away the fact that Peter could never have annoyed any of them. He had them all wrapped right around his little finger.

Hiding his smile, Tony pointed his teaspoon towards the fridge. “Make yourself useful and grab the cream for these, will you? May brought some of the decent stuff with her.”

“God bless that woman,” Steve murmured as he hurried to obey. He never could resist anything sweet, unlike Tony. “Is she ever going to come and live here permanently?”

Pausing before he took the cream from Steve, Tony cocked his head. “I’m sorry. Are you trying to say that my cooking isn’t good enough for you?”

Steve laughed affectionately. “I wouldn’t class warming up leftovers and ordering pizza as cooking, sweetheart.”

“Excuse me?” Tony pushed one hip out and fixed Steve with an unimpressed glare. “What do you call what I’m doing now?”

Pressing his lips together, Steve looked over Tony’s shoulder before running his tongue over his teeth. It was an obvious attempt to hold back a laugh and Tony narrowed his eyes.

“I’d call that adding hot water to powder. But,” he added just as Tony started seething, “I will admit that you learnt well. Your hot chocolate is the best I’ve ever had.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Tony let it placate him. For a moment, anyway. It was Christmas, after all. “Dick.”

“Hey!” Steve let out a startled laugh. “It’s Christmas! You can’t call me that.”

“I can call you whatever I want. It’s my right.”

“Oh, it is, is it?” Depositing the bowl of fresh whipped cream on the counter by Tony’s elbow, Steve crowded Tony back against the side.

“Mhm,” Tony murmured, fisting his hands in Steve’s frankly-hideous Christmas sweater to tug him close. “I can call my spouse whatever I want.”

“Well, in that case…”

However Steve was going to finish would forever remain a mystery as they were interrupted by a sudden giggle from the doorway.

“Mistletoe!” Peter said, a cheeky grin on his face as he laughed again, “May says you gotta kiss under mistletoe at Christmas.”

Tony couldn’t stop his smile, which only grew when Steve brushed a kiss to the apple of his cheek.

“Well, I don’t need mistletoe to kiss your Da,” Steve started, backing away from Tony slowly. Ducking his head, Tony tried to hide his grin. He knew where Steve was going and couldn’t believe that Peter couldn’t see anything coming after so many years of living with Steve. “Just like I don’t need mistletoe to kiss you!”

Suddenly, Steve was off like a shot and, with a loud squeal, Peter dashed away too. His laughed screams were heard throughout the house as Steve chased him for a Christmas kiss.

With a fond shake of his head, Tony grabbed his and May’s mugs – after adding a healthy dollop of cream to each of them – and headed into the living room to find May at their mantelpiece. She’d obviously been looking at their photos lined up there, but turned with a bright smile when Tony placed their drinks onto the coffee table.

“Oh, lovely. Thank you.”

“Pleasure,” Tony said sincerely. He fell down onto one of the couches with a sigh, looking up at the Christmas tree that took up half of their living room. It was one of Steve’s, obviously. Though he no longer needed to pick up any extra cash, he still worked at the tree farm during the Christmas season, much to Peter’s delight. (And Tony's. He'd grown rather partial to the elf costume.)

“God, this is good,” May said over her mug with a happy sigh. “I’ve been wanting one of these since the last time I was here.”

Tony snorted. “Gone are the days of drinking booze at Christmas and getting a roaring hangover to wake up to on Boxing Day, hey?”

May laughed, tucking her legs up under her when she collapsed on the couch as well. The bells on her socks jingled with the movement and Tony shook his head fondly. “God, I don’t miss those days. Getting far too old for all that. You don’t sound too sorry about that, either.”

Another shriek of laughter sounded from down the hall and Tony huffed. “Nah, can’t say that I am, really. Though hearing Pete’s screams all through Christmas makes you feel hungover.”

Snorting into her mug, May nodded. “Not half. And you didn’t even have him as a baby. It was worse then, believe me. Just about every toy he had lit up or played music.”

Tony laughed, even as his heart clenched. He didn’t think that sounded so bad, really, nor all that different to what Tony and Steve had got him to open the day after. “I am sort of tempted to drop a bit of whiskey in this mug, can’t lie.”

“Wouldn’t even blame you,” May said on another laugh, cheeks flushed as though she’d had a small tipple already. “Although I’m more partial to vodka, if you wouldn’t mind.”

/

“She’d have been proud, you know.” May reached over and squeezed Tony’s knee. They had forgone the alcohol in their mugs in the end, but May didn’t seem to need it as she levelled Tony with a _look_. “I know you weren’t ever that serious when you were together, but she always spoke of you fondly and I want you to know. Yes,” she added with a roll of her eyes, sitting back and fluffing up the cushion behind her, “just like I do every year. I don’t care how many times I’ll say it, though. She would have been so proud.”

Tony clicked his tongue, swirling the dregs of his mugs around in front of his chest. “I’m pretty sure you have to say that.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have to butter you up,” May said, “you don’t exactly need a bigger ego. But then again, you did take the terror off my hands, so I am grateful to you. I’ll whisper all sorts of sweet nothings if you keep him.”

Tony laughed loudly at May’s teasing tone. “You’re most welcome, Ma’am. Would say it was my pleasure, but, well…”

It was May’s turn to laugh and she reached over to swat Tony on the leg. “You’re awful.”

“You started it!”

“Now, now, children,” Steve said with a fond twist to his words as he appeared in the doorway to the living room, wonky reindeer ears atop his head and a big smile at his lips. “We have important matters to attend to, apparently.”

As soon as he’d finished talking, Peter hurtled into the room, running straight over to the couch and throwing himself onto May. Tony couldn’t even find it in himself to tell him off with the strength of his smile and the happiness practically radiating off him, though he did grab May’s mug from her quickly.

“Aunt May! You havin’ fun?”

“I am, my angel,” May said, lifting a hand to brush Peter’s hair from his face. “Are you?”

“Yeah! Da was makin’ hot chocolate and then Papa said we could watch a Christmas movie.” For all he had been a very proper little boy when he’d first moved in with Tony, he’d quickly picked up on Steve’s accent and, whenever he got very excited, his slight Brooklyn twang increased enough for him to sound like Steve’s double. It was a sign of how comfortable the child was and Tony found himself waiting impatiently to hear the drawn-out vowels.

“Oh, yeah? Have you picked one, yet?”

“Not yet. Was waitin’ to ask Da.”

Tony chuckled as Peter threw himself backwards on May’s lap to grin upside-down at Tony, Christmas jumper riding up around his stomach. “There’s one more thing to do before a film, though, isn’t there?”

Peter gasped loudly and scrambled to sit up. “The owl! Gotta do the owl!”

“Yeah, kid, that’s it.” Tony pushed himself up, hands on his creaking knees. “Need a lift up?”

“Papa!” Peter cried, rolling off the couch and dashing over to Steve. “He’s the tallest!”

The huff that Tony gave was really more for show than anything else as Steve poked out his tongue at him. (The eye roll that that earned was much more genuine.)

“Right,” Tony said, shaking his head when Steve’s grin spread even larger, “come on, darling. Christmas Eve tradition. May, you got the camera ready?”

It wouldn’t be too long before Peter reached an age that he didn’t want any photos taken of him and Tony was already dreading the day. Any snaps he could grab before then were welcomed with open arms.

“Got it right here.” Holding her cell up, May smiled at Tony as though she knew what he was thinking. “Ready?”

“Ready!” Peter chirped, stretching out his hand for Tony to hand over the small decoration he’d plucked from the mantelpiece.

Really, their tree didn’t need anything else adding to it as half of its branches were already close to snapping clean off, but Tony hadn’t been able to resist. He’d seen it the year after they’d met Steve, in the middle of October in _Target_ of all places. It probably hadn’t even been created to be a Christmas decoration, but all it had needed was a piece of string threaded through its top and it was perfect for them.

Though Tony and Steve had only been dating for a few months at that point, Tony had known it was as serious as he would ever get and he couldn’t have stopped himself from snatching the last owl on the shelf as a yearly reminder if his life had depended on it. As soon as he’d shown Peter, the boy had very nearly bounced right out of his skin and had set about making a small Santa hat to fit on its head.

From then on, it had been their annual tradition to add it to the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve – though its little Santa hat had had to have been remade a few times over the years.

“Look, Da!”

“I can see it, kid,” Tony said, grinning up at Peter on Steve’s hip as he reached out to hang the owl just below the star right at the top. “Looks great.”

Peter giggled loudly and leant his shoulder down on Steve’s shoulder. “Film now?”

“Of course.” Steve set Peter down on the floor and pushed him over to May who took his hand and led him back to the couch. “You okay?”

Tony let out a deep breath as he looked at the tree. Though the sort of tree Peter chose each year varied, their decorations had never changed too much. There was the star that Steve and Peter had made together on their very first Christmas as a family, the bauble with their wedding date engraved on the front, the reindeer holding a plaque with Peter’s name on it, and the handmade glass ornaments that May had brought back from her holiday to Egypt.

It was always the middle of the tree the drew Tony’s eye. To some people, it might have been very odd to have so many ornaments for parents, but it was their family. There were two gingerbread people holding hands with _Mum and_ _Dad_ written on right in the very centre of the tree, and then two snowmen with _Da and_ _Papa_ written on just below _._ Once, Tony had thought named decorations were tacky, but he’d grown quite accustomed to them and his heart tugged every time he saw Peter poke them gently.

Truly, the whole tree was a bit weird. A little messy, definitely overcrowded, completely overpriced, and ridiculously over-the-top. But, it was Peter’s tree and it was Steve’s tree and it was Tony’s tree that he would never, ever change.

“Yeah,” Tony said belatedly, too slowly. “Course I am. But I won’t be if we end up watching _Elf_ again.”

“Come on, Da! May’s chosen _Elf_!”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr!](https://s-horne.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!


End file.
